There are people here, and there. They talk about me, and you.
They hate me, yet pretend to love. They bitch about me, and you. I become a criminal.
And you tend to.
Far from the happy and lighter soul.
We were.
They hate me, yet pretend to love. They bitch about me, and you. I become a criminal.
And you tend to.
Far from the happy and lighter soul.
We were.
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